Hand in Hand
by Spense
Summary: Jeff comes face to face with his worst nightmare. Originally written for the TIWF Picture Challenge, appoximately 2014.


**Hand in Hand**

 **By Spense**

 _ **Authors Note:** This story was written a few years back for the TIWF Picture Challenge. 2014, I think. The picture I chose was of an adults hand holding a child's. The beginning was originally written as the kernel for a longer piece, which I never got around to finishing. Which is why I've never posted it, as it's never felt finished to me; always feeling something like a sketch. Ah well. May as well get it out here._

Jeff just couldn't believe it. This son of his could push his buttons more than any of the others combined. The argument continued from the airport to the office. Jeff had left Scott to do the post flight checks on his own, and giving him a break from his youngest brother.

Alan and Gordon, aptly nicknamed 'the terrible two', had been in rare form while Alan was home on winter break from boarding school. He and Alan were making the island's inhabitants absolutely crazy. So, since Jeff had to come to the mainland, he'd decided to split the two up, and brought Alan, much to that son's chagrin. 'It's cold on the mainland, Dad! It's break. You know, sunshine? Island?'

But as Jeff pointed out, Gordon needed free access to the pool to stay sane, so Alan came, and Gordon stayed. But Jeff had also arranged to bring Scott along, in order to keep the 15 year old out of trouble. Jeff needed the big guns right now, much to Scott's chagrin. 'But what if we're called to a rescue, Dad? Both you and I will be unavailable!"

Jeff wasn't at all sure whom he was going to be babysitting this trip. Kids.

Anyway, after dealing with Alan badgering him all the way over from the island, Jeff had decided to have the car service drop him off at the office. It was his turn for a break. Scott and Alan would meet up at the apartment. Scott, predictably, wasn't thrilled, but Jeff pulled rank. He needed a break. Both he and Alan could do with a little separation, and he'd spell Scott after dinner.

Giving directions to the driver, then shutting the car door firmly on his still grousing youngest son, Jeff headed for the entrance of Tracy Towers. At the door, he turned to say something to a colleague, and caught the car pulling away from the curb in his peripheral vision. And in that moment, as the car carrying his youngest son entered the intersection, an SUV coming from the right, ran the light and plowed, into the back half of the town car, spinning it from the impact.

Before Jeff could blink, the car bearing his son was airborne and rolling through the intersection. The secondary collisions happened almost immediately. The limousine was hit head on, just as it completed one complete roll and ended on its roof. Another car hit the back. In less than 5 seconds, 4 cars were interlocked in the middle of the intersection, torn and twisted.

Sound finally caught up with the sight, but before those sounds of tormented metal could even register; Jeff was running, dodging people and cars as the sound exploded around him. The wreckage of the cars involved was beginning to settle and steam as he reached the twisted metal.

"ALAN!" Jeff yelled, frantically hoping for a reply.

The limo was the center of the carnage, upside down, and crushed. The front end was gone, pushed back into the front seat, leaving no doubt that the driver had been killed instantly. Part of the rear quarter panel was caved in, leaving little of the car in normal shape. Jeff stared for a second, short of breath, as his world titled. Then he was pushing his way into the only part of the car that seemed to be whole - the back left corner, using his gloved hand to clear away broken glass.

There was Alan. Clearly, he hadn't had his seat belt on, and that fact, ironic as it was, probably saved his life. There wasn't much left of the car, except where Alan lay. He was face down on what had been the roof, turned towards Jeff, eyes closed - almost indistinguishable in his bloody face.

Jeff yanked off his glove, and reached a shaking hand out to rest it lightly on Alan's wrist. There! He could feel Alan's heart beating rhythmically under the touch of his fingers. Weaker than he'd like, but Alan was alive. The slight rise of his chest further reassured a frantic Jeff. Only then did he realize that somebody was pulling at his arm.

"Mr. Tracy! Please! You have to get back!"

Jeff turned to see a familiar man trying to tug him away.

"My son's in here. Get help," Jeff instructed brusquely, turning his attention back to a still unmoving Alan.

"But . . . the gas . . . " The man gasped, still pulling at Jeff, hard enough to keep him from getting to Alan.

Jeff could smell the gas. They had to get any survivors out as soon as possible. Wrenching his arm free, he began to try to worm his way into what was left of the car.

"No, Mr. Tracy!" He was interrupted again, buy the man he suddenly recognized as a security guard from Tracy Towers' lobby.

"Glenn, I need to get Alan out."

"We'll do that. You just stand back," A fireman, grabbed Jeff's elbow and physically moved him aside to get down the window where Jeff had just been.

Jeff ran a distracted hand through his hair. "That's my son!"

"We'll get him," the fireman's partner assured him.

Jeff did not like being on this side of the rescue. Seeing the impossibility of getting down near Alan, Jeff did the hardest thing he'd ever done - he stepped back. Not taking his eyes off the window where the paramedics were working, he fished out his phone and handed it to Glenn, instructing, "Call Scott. He's on speed dial 1."

Glenn took the phone, glad to help.

"Tell him what happened, and to meet me at the nearest trauma center."

Glenn nodded quickly, and stepped away from the wreckage to place the call.

Jeff watched, sick, as the rescue of his son continued.

"He's beginning to wake up," one commented. With a quick look back at Jeff, he asked, 'What's his name?"

"Alan," Jeff said quickly, and moved in closer.

"Easy, Alan, Just stay still. Easy," one of the men murmured as he worked. He looked up quickly again. "You said he's your son? Can you talk to him? Keep him calm?"

Jeff nodded quickly, and heedless of the glass and metal debris, knelt down and looked into the small space.

Alan was coming towards consciousness, but clearly wasn't coherent. As the Paramedic fixed a c-collar around his neck, Alan moaned, and tried to move again.

"Alan!" Jeff called. "Alan, just stay still, son. You'll be out in a minute, just stay still."

Alan's eyes opened a slit, and shifted in the direction of the familiar voice. "D . . . dd . ." The slurred half word was better than anything Jeff thought he'd ever heard.

He half smiled in relief, and answered his son, trying to sooth him with his voice. "It's me, Alan. It's Dad. Stay still for me, okay?'

"Mmm . . . " was about all the answer that was discernible from Alan, who's eyes slid shut again.

"No Alan, stay awake. Okay? Just try to stay awake right now," Jeff coaxed, watching as the second paramedic worked to free his son, while the first held his neck steady.

"Come on, Jim," the man holding Alan's neck muttered. "We've got to get this kid out of here. The gas is stronger."

"Just . . . about . . . . ," Jim muttered, grabbing and twisting metal with his heavily gloved hands, "got . . . it! There. Ready!"

Hands reached in, and between the two paramedics and Jeff, they smoothly pulled him out of the car onto a waiting backboard. Glenn, just finishing up the call to Scott, hung up and hurried over to help move Alan away from the wreckage.

Once on the sidewalk, a safe distance from the wreckage, the paramedics began to stabilize Alan for transport.

Jeff refused to move from Alan's side, but stayed out of the way, talking to him, as his son tried to fight his way to coherency. Semi-conscious was the best he could manage.

"Shit," one of the paramedics muttered, finishing up taking Alan's blood pressure as the other started an IV. "We need to get him to the hospital now. Get Lifeflight here."

"They're here," his partner answered. "Let's go." And as they finished securing Alan, they were on their way toward the waiting helicopter.

Jeff was moving with them as Glenn handed him his phone. "Scott will meet you at the hospital."

Jeff gave Glenn a quick squeeze on the shoulder, then was getting on the helicopter next to Alan. And as they were lifting away, the intersection suddenly blazed with light, as the town car Alan had been riding in, exploded in a ball of flame.

TB TB TB TB TB

Jeff followed the gurney into the trauma center as far as he could, then was firmly ushered to a private waiting room. Frustrated at being separated from Alan, who still hadn't become more than semi-conscious, he paced the room.

At his second turn of the small room, his attention was arrested by a large painting dominating one wall. A man's hand, weathered and callused, was holding a very small child's hand. The child's hand was unlined, soft and new. The image was captivating. The juxtaposition of the man's hand, work worn and lined, was so distinct against the child's, with no marks of life on it as of yet.

Jeff was stared when a voice next to him made him jump. "Do you know how many times I've seen you holding a baby brother's hand just like that?"

Jeff turned to Scott in surprise. "When did you get here?" He asked, startled.

Scott gave him a brief smile. "Just now. You were deep in the picture," he nodded towards the painting with his chin.

Jeff turned back to look, captivated once again. It was so incredibly perceptive – just the way a father viewed a child.

"How's Alan?"

Jeff just shook his head, and shrugged, unable to say anything over the lump in his throat.

"Bad?" Scott asked softly.

Jeff nodded. He was grateful Scott hadn't seen the crash. Or seen Alan in the middle of it. Bad didn't even begin to cover it.

Scott seemed to sense this, and turned his attention back to the picture. "This could be you, with all of us, at one time," he said softly.

Again, Jeff just nodded. Images from all five boys' childhood flooded back to him. Taking a tiny hand to cross a street, or to help balance. A boy's hand finding its way into his, just because. And most distinct of all, the first time he had taken each of his newborns' hand in his own, reveling in the new life, and all the promise that it held.

Jeff swallowed hard. One of those new lives, grown into that promise, was solid and supporting at his side.

The door opened then, causing both men to turn quickly, anxious for news.

The doctor filled them in quickly and concisely. Alan was in bad shape, with multiple injuries, but would recover fully with time. It would be a long haul, and because of damage to his legs, he would be on crutches for quite a while, but ultimately, he would heal.

After the doctor had finished, and answered Jeff and Scott's questions, both men felt the drained, but optimistic.

They found themselves standing in front of the picture once again while they waited until they could be taken to the youngest Tracy. "Looks like we'll be doing a lot of this in the near future," Scott commented as he gazed at the hands, solidly hanging onto one another.

Jeff nodded. "But at least he has a future," he said soberly. "It happened so damn fast, and could have been so much worse."

There would be details to take care of. Arranging Alan's recovery, contacting family, talking to the police about the accident, but they would make it through, holding fast to one another, as always.

TB TB TB TB TB

Months later, on his birthday, Jeff's most memorable present came from Scott. Alan was still on crutches, driving them all crazy, but Jeff would look at him, and feel a wave of gratitude that he was still with them. He could see the same expression on Scott's face, in unguarded moments. So it wasn't terribly surprising that his present from Scott was the painting that had hung in the hospital waiting room. The painting of the man's hand holding the child's.

Everybody liked it, but Scott and Jeff traded glances, knowing the significance to both of them, and the memories and the promise that it held. Jeff was reminded of that promise, each time he looked at it over the years, and saw that fulfillment in each of his sons.


End file.
